


Divine Ideas From a Demonic Mind: Potter Edition

by TheDivineDemon



Series: Divine Ideas From a Demonic Mind [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, Ficlet Collection, One Shot Collection, Reincarnation, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-02-29 01:15:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18768211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDivineDemon/pseuds/TheDivineDemon
Summary: A series of One-shots to get rid of the over flow of ideas in my oxymoronic head. Hope you enjoy the chaos. *Mostly Harry Centered* If you feel like doing any of these feel free, just tell and credit me. I want to see these grow.





	1. Chapter 1

Summary: Harry has been having strange dreams, of another time, of other worlds, of different people. He is grown there. He is strong there. He wished he was more like the other him.

Title: Dreaming of a Soldier

* * *

Have you ever dreamed you were stronger?

That you were someone else?

Someone grander?

What if you were that person, just not here.

In dozen of other worlds, most probably an Earth, just to the side of where you are there are other versions of you going about their lives. Some thieves or dictator, others firefighters and advocates, maybe even some living a perfectly ordinary life. The time and place can be radically different but it is still you in some strange way.

These worlds would usual be disconnected, by a wall seemingly as thin as twine but stronger than anything imaginable. But in some cases there are cracks, holes, that can be exploited. Some don't know they're doing it, other reveal in it, gobbling up all the information they could and conquering.

Either way the person is changed forever.

This is the story of one little boy who not only lived off the experience but survived and thrived off it.

* * *

The saying boys would be boys was thrown around a lot at Surrey Primary School. Especially when it came to Dudley Dursley and his little group of friends.

Many of the teachers there were from the 'old guard' believing a good fight every now and then wasn't too bad, toughen the boys up. As long as no one got to roughed up too bad it was fine. And if it looked like it was getting that way they would step in.

Such as Mr. Johnson was doing then, separating Dudley Dursley from his cousin, Harry Potter. The smaller boy was a bit bruised and bleeding from the lip but a quick trip to the nurse he would be fine.

Dudley would get a bit of a talk, about morality and that it's not okay to just go around hitting people like that. What else could they do? They were only seven. The worst they can do is threaten to tell their guardians.

And really how often did that work? Kids needed to learn these lessons themselves, they could only guide them the best they could.

The Potter boy bit back a sniffle as one of the other teachers guided him to the nurses office. Johnson could only roll his eyes, kid needed to toughen up. Otherwise he would get nowhere in this world.

* * *

Harry tried not to make a sound as he tucked himself into bed that night. His sides and chin were starting to darken from thee blows he received during recess.

He didn't even blame the teachers anymore, it happened too often to be their fault. It was his fault he was just too weak.

He wished he was stronger.

* * *

Whether it was his wish aided by a burst of accidental magic, his counterpart's destiny or maybe even a combination of the two, it did not matter. Because he achieved the near impossible.

He connected realities.

That night he dreamed of a different childhood. A life on a farm far different than anything he ever seen. Sleek technology and alien creatures under a foreign moon, the memories of which would leave him in awe the following morning.

But the memories that would really stick out for him weren't of strange animals or impossible technologies but of two loving parents. Memories of a jovial black haired man and a beautiful red headed woman would occupy his mind for weeks to come.

Day after day he would watch and "remember" his other's life with envy. Watching them go through their day to day life as a happy family. He watched the other boy slowly grow into a "fine young man", as his father would tell anyone who listened.

But three weeks into the dreams, it happened.

The sky thundered unnaturally loud and buildings turned to ruble in moments. Numerous strange crafts landed all about the settlement and then, the screams came.

Different ones from all direction, begging, pained yells, the last gasp of life. They all rang through the streets.

His family hid in their barn, his father holding some sort of gun and Harry's other standing in front of his mother.

They broken in, ugly four eyed things, clad in thick armor and had more guns attached to them than Harry though possible.

His father, his other's father, started to fire his gun at the intruders in what seemed to be a vain attempt at damage as a strange blue barrier flickered in front of them. The things spared a brief entertained laugh as the dark haired man screamed for Harry to get his mother out of there.

Harry wanted to hesitate, to stay with his father, but blind fear for himself and his mother overwrote any shred of moral decency he had.

So he grabbed his mother's hand and ran, ignoring her protest and screams for her father. They were quickly silenced as the rapid beat of gun fire filled the air.

The remaining two family member would run for a short while longer before another gunshot rung through the air louder than the others.

His mother stumbled for a moment, her eyes wide as her hand griped her chest. She spared it a brief look, almost in wonder at all the red she saw leaking through, before looking her son right in the eye and whispering one word in a horse voice, "Run."

Harry, or his other as he wasn't even sure anymore, felt his eyes widen as he watched his mother fall in near slow motion and catching a glimpse of the four eyes things holding a long gun and started to point it at him.

In fear he ran, like a coward, abandoning his injured mother to save his own life.

He would not stop his pattern of running and hiding until the human armed forces arrived two days later.

* * *

Dudley didn't know what happened.

One minute it was like every other school day. Meet up with his friend, go to boring classes, and then head out to recess.

At first they were just going to play with his new toy but then his freak of a cousin walked by on his way to the swings. Harry Hunting, as he liked to call it, always made for a better recess.

But his cousin didn't respond to the usual goading or even get into a sprint. He just stood there staring, eyes shadowed by something Dudley was too young and inexperienced to understand. It didn't stop him from shoving his cousin though.

Surprisingly, instead of falling to his back Harry only stumbled a few steps away and quickly regained his ground. He just stood there, waiting, almost daring Dudley to do something.

A dare he took.

And unlike all the other fights Harry was involved in, that time he gave as good as he took. Flailing, scratching and biting for all he was worth. He didn't care if he got called a sissy later on, he was going to win that fight.

Later on, after the teachers pulled them apart, he would tell the curious listeners "I'm not running away any more."

And no one besides him really knew what that meant.

* * *

That night Harry suffered a yelling and a sore bottom but he did not back down or run away. He took the pain and refused to cry out because of it.

Which unnerved his uncle enough to stop after the third hit of the belt and just send Harry to his room under the stairs.

The boy didn't mind, he just wanted to sleep. Hoping to dream of the life of a farm and loving parents.

* * *

He didn't get what he wanted.

Instead of arriving to his dream as a waking farm boy his first sight was the inside of a large warehouse. Doctors looking over the other shell shocked survivors around him as soldiers guarded the doors and kept the peace.

He felt so empty. He couldn't even process what was going on around him. He heard people talking around him, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. They were all just a buzz in the back of his ear.

He just sat there, feeling more like he was going through the motions than anything else.

His parents were dead. What was he going to do now? He was barely sixteen, he didn't know what to do with his life, with himself.

A flash of guilt struck through his self pity like lightning. Here he was thinking of himself while his parents' bodies laid somewhere discarded on the planet's surface.

God he was pathetic.

A pair of shoes appeared in his downcast vision.

"Hey... kid," The doctor, attendant, nurse, whatever said, sounding as awkward as possible. "Um, the doc's need to check you over." None of the above then, probably some grunt sent to get the mopey kid and drag him over.

"Whatever."

The grunt shifted uneasily as he guided the traumatized youth to a medical station, clearly uncomfortable in his presence and unsure what to say.

But he did want to say something, to make the kid feel better, even if it sounded stupid, cliché or just awkward.

"We'll make them pay kid. Someday soon, we'll make them pay."

But to the teenage boy, and to a large extension Harry, that day wasn't soon enough.

* * *

Dull and dead eyes.

That's the way many people would say Harry Potter's eyes looked in the corresponding weeks. Enough for a number of teachers, and even some parents, to pull him aside and ask him what's wrong.

He'd just stare at them for a while and either respond with a "Nothing" or an "I'm tired". Naturally this concerned a number of people because when a child denies something that usually means something is happening.

And if they add the odd violent behavior as of late to the equation they all could just smell trouble.

So, eventually the police were called in and the adults were none too quite about their speculations of abuse in one form or another.

A formal investigation would soon begin and a whole mess would follow after. But the boy they were all trying to help wouldn't truly notice until it was all over.

His mind filled with the memories of a pained boy.

* * *

Years have gone by and the farm boy has grown.

Over the years many things had changed and made him into a very different man than his parents expected him to be, or who he even expected to be.

He always thought he was going to be a farmer or maybe even a police officer in one of her more adventurous dreams but never did he think he was going to be a soldier.

But after Mindoir he couldn't see or bring himself to be anything else. And with his soon discovered Biotic potential the military took him gladly.

He trained hard, worked hard and pushed hard and was eventually rewarded with an invitation to N-School, the premier Human special ops program, within a year of his recruitment. And not only that but he was excelling, claiming another N-Rank with every passing year.

Currently he was only an N4 but he'd climb those last few steps and wear that N7 badge with pride. To say he made it, that he earned it.

Earned more than a cushy patrol route to get his "Space legs" that's for sure.

A hand clapped onto his shoulder and a voice yelled out "Shepard!" in a rather drunk bellow. It wasn't long before he was smiling along with the drunk ramblings of crew mates.

Well at least the shore leave wasn't that bad.

* * *

AN:

So if it wasn't obvious this is a Mass Effect/Harry Potter idea where Shepard and Harry are the same person but from Alternate realities and Harry is living Shepard's life with him.

This Shepard is a Colonist/War Hero Vanguard that learned a few tech abilities (EX: Overload) and from the lessons of his other's life Harry grew faster than he should have. Maturing and using his accidental magic like Biotics/Omni-tool.

By the time he starts Hogwarts he'll be going through ME1, second year ME2, third year ME3, and fourth year is Harry the product of both their lives going through the Twiwizard.

His views of the Wizarding world will be largely shaped by "his" experience in the Galactic community, for example his opinion on Goblins, "Like a Vorcha fucked a Volos.".

Pairing most likely a Fleur with an interest in archeology (hint, hint). 

Anyway, please tell me what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: Sometimes a little faith is needed for something to blossom

Working title: Misjudged

Fleur found that Hogwarts was no different than Beauxbatons or any other part of France, if one ignored how unnecessarily cold it was. For all of it's grand stone walls and living tapestries couldn't disguise the amount of stupidity held in one building.

It was only their first day there and she was already hearing the most ridiculous things from drooling mouths.

"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?" Yes, extensively. And?

"Have you ever seen anyone do this?" No, and she never wants to again.

And, her favorite one so far, "Did you know I invented the broomstick?" A few hundred years too late rouquin.

It seemed every boy in the school had no self restraint, inventing accomplishments or achievements or flowery comments just to get her attention. True, she could cut down on these... annoyances by restraining her Allure, as some of her friends suggested, but who would want to do that? It would be like telling someone to suck in their belly all day for the comfort of others. She did not have time for that, not with how stressed this tournament was making her.

After the last stumbling boy was carried away by his friends, an unnecessary exaggeration in her opinion but it left her friends in stitches, she needed some space. So, despite her friends offers, Fleur was wandering the ancient school's corridors by herself.

And she was quite lost.

Not that she would admit it but she was getting a bit frustrated as she navigated hallways she swore were shifting about just to mess with her. She let out a huff as she passed a familiar painting, it waved to her in jovial greeting, and gave a stomp as she turned a new corner.

She fell on her rump as she walked straight into someone. The shaggy haired boy she ran into was still standing, irritating enough, and rubbing his nose where her chin hit him. He hissed for a second, rubbing away the pain, before noticing her.

"Oh, sorry." He said, rushing a bit to give her his hand, "Are you okay?"

She gave him a half hearted glare but took his hand after a moment. "I am fine, zank you." She said, brushing off her uniform with as much dignity as she could scrounge.

The boy stood there dumbly for a moment, hands wiping against his robes in apparent nerves,. As he opened his mouth Fleur braced herself for some obnoxious bragging or meaningless flattery, just what she needed to top off her oh so wonderful first day at Hogwarts. An insult on top of injury, in a very literal sense.

"Well, bye." He said before walking off down the hall.

Fleur blinked. And blinked again. Then she called out, "Wait!". Her voice was just a bit too loud but it got the boy's attention.

"Yes?"

She hesitated, pride warring with curiosity and frustration. Eventually her pride backed down and she found herself able to ask for help, "I am quite lost and could use some 'elp."

"Oh," He said, turning to face her, "Where are you trying to go?"

"The courtyard or ze main gate, I am in need of some air."

The boy was quite for a long second, confusion plain in his green eyes. "How did you end up here? Your almost at the top of the tower."

Fleur blushed as she hotly said, "It is an unfamiliar building. Anyone could get lost."

"I guess. Hogwarts can be a bit tricky. I got lost all the time in my First Year." He said, shrugging before waving for her to follow him, "It just this way, c'mon."

"Zank you."

The two traveled in silence, one that would have been comfortable if not for Fleur's mounting tension. Didn't he feel her Allure? He wasn't acting like a fool as boys his age usual do.

How was he doing that?

Willpower? Obliviousness? An interest in the other team?

Curiosity near bursting she decided to investigate, starting with the most basic of questions. "I do not believe we 'ave given eac' ot'er our names." She started, offering her hand, "I am Fleur Delacour. And you are?"

The boy took her hand with a smile, "Harry, Harry Potter."

Fleur let his hand go with a sound of disgust, "'arry Potter? Really?" She said, arms crossed and eyes flaring, "You couldn't come up with somezing more original?"

"What?"

Fleur just scoffed, stomping down the hall uncaring if she got lost again. Foolish of her to get her hopes up for some genuine conversation or even a break from the general irritation Hogwarts seemed to rile up in her.

Behind her she could just make out the boy saying, "Ron was right. Girls are mental."

AN:

A quick write up completely written for that misunderstanding. The idea popped I'm my head because easy love the two seem to have in every fic because of the Allure so I though 'why not make it a reason why that start out on the wrong foot'.


	3. Chapter 3

I have a few ideas lately that can be boiled down to “Characters reincarnated in another setting” and, after someone pointed out the two characters similarities, I thought I’d play with it here. Fair warning, I’m going to be using a combo of the books and movies to fit my needs so don’t feel too put off if you see a description of a character that doesn’t match the scene.

 

Summary: They have been given a second chance at life and love, but will it be taken? And what could be the consequences of a Boy Who Lived remembering he was once King of Kings?

Working title: Stand By Me In A Field Of Blue (HP/FFXV)  
Rough Chapter 1

 

The stadium shook with the sound of cheers, victory cries of “Krum!” and “Ireland!” mingling together so well one would have thought the Bulgarian player had flown for the other team. Throughout the stands feet stomped the ground and fireworks, or spells very like fireworks, were being launched into the sky. Down in the field leprechauns danced among the spilling crowd, tossing fistfuls of gold to anyone who passed.

It was chaos and Harry Potter was loving every second of it. Bottle green eyes looking this way and that, head snapping around so quick his crooked glasses nearly fell from his face.

“Did you see how he dove for that Snitch?” His friend, Ron, crowed next to him, fiddling with his omnioculars to replay the scene, “It was beautiful it was.”

“It was brilliant!”

On his other side their friend Hermione, bushy haired and buck toothed, rolled her eyes but was smiling just as wide as they were. Ron's dad had managed, through his connections at the Ministry, to get ten premium seats at the Quidditch World Cup. They sat in the highest box, right in front of not only the British Minister of Magic but the Bulgarian Minister as well. He couldn't have asked for better seats.

Well, the prat Malfoy and his father could have been in a different box but Harry felt the good company around him more than made up for that little blemish. His messy black hair, and Hermione's own unmanageable mane, may have made him stand out from the line of freckled redheads but he never once felt out of place. The Weasleys had always, always, treated him as one of their own and he'd always be grateful for that.

“Alright, you lot! Come along!” Mr. Weasley called over the din of the crowd, ushering them all to the stairs. “Let's get you back to the tents before the Irish really start celebrating.”

“And so we can join them.” Harry heard Charlie say to his oldest Weasley brother, sharing a good natured elbow as they passed each other. Harry, Ron, and Hermione trailed towards the end of the line of redheads with only Fred and George behind them. The two apparently had to settle the details on a bet before they caught up.

“But why did he catch the Snitch so soon?” Hermione asked as they descended the stairs, each enchanted step taking them down a story at a time. “Wouldn't it have been better to let his team's Chasers score a bit more?”

Ron shook his head, “The Ishish Keeper was too good, a bloody wall. They'd just be wasting time just trying to get passed him. And then there's Ireland's Chasers, well, you see how good they were doing.

“He had to end it on his terms so he could leave the stadium walking tall.” Harry finished, finding an echoing familiarity with his words. As if he said, felt, a similar sentiment before. It was an easy sensation to shake off, especially when they had to wade through the craziness of the campground.

The Irish victory celebration was already in full swing, shamrocks and Irish songs floated through the air as they passed. So did cold mugs of beer, froth spilling as they sloshed on by.

Percy had to smack the twins’ hands away more than once.

Causing nearly as much of a scene we're the Bulgarian Cheerleaders, who looked just as lovely with hunched shoulders and pointing lips, as they exited the stadium. More than a few men stopped and made a fool of themselves as they sulked on by, Hermione and Ron's sister made sure none in their group did the same. They grumbled as they pushed the Weasley men along, Harry laughing the whole way at Ron's slack jaw expression.

They all saw schoolmates on their way back, even Ginny waved to an owl eyed blonde from her year. Seamus, a fellow Gryffindor housemate from their year, had been the most memorable but he didn't even notice them. Too busy swinging his shirt about and singing off tune to care.

Finally, back at their tent Mr. Weasley gathered them around a wood stove, that he delightfully lit the Muggle way with a match, and told them it was “straight to bed after a cup of coco”. Harry's disappointment was short lived as Bill, Ron's oldest brother, passed them all with a wink and a subtly bottle of butterbeer. The combination of warm chocolate and cool butterscotch-ish flavored alcohol twisted strangely on his tongue but it did wonders for his spirit.

Ron's too. And, as Harry knew, high spirits and a bit of alcohol took the redhead a long way. Maybe Bill knew this too, maybe he didn't, either way he was having a good laugh with everyone else as his youngest brother made a bit of a fool of himself.

Standing in his chair Ron reenacted the game, hands dipping and diving as he highlighted the match between the Seekers. Krums highlights in particular, “The way he flew, it was like was a bird. He's more than an athlete, he's an artist!”

“Are you in love Ron?” His asked, giggling from behind her cup of coco and sending the twins into a fit.

“Shut up Gin.” He said, ears red, tossing his scarf in her face. But, as Harry learned early from the Weasleys, siblings wouldn't let it go with just that. They, starting with the twins, sang him a love ballad. So loud and bawdy they sang, dragging the rest of the room into their song but for an amused Mr. Weasley and a bemused Percy.

Maybe this was why they hadn't noticed the shift in tone outside their tent. How the firework like spells seemed to burst closer to the ground. How the merry songs stopped and squeals of delight turned increasingly shrill, increasingly frightened.

Mr. Weasley noticed the change first, straightens from where he stood and marched to the tent's flap with wand in hand. He was back not a moment later, face pale but eyes furious and worried.

“Grab your coats, all of you. Come now, hurry.” He rambled, knuckles tight on his wand as he motioned for them to follow him.

“Dad, what's going on?” Bill asked, already standing with his wand at the ready. Charlie and Percy not far behind him.

“Death Eaters,” he said, voice tight as his eyes tracked the younger children's progress, “or a lot play acting as then and doing a damn good job of it. I need you to take everyone to the woods and hide-” His words were cut off as his eldest sons argued with him, saying that 'they were of age’, 'that they wanted to help' or that they 'worked for the Ministry now and had a duty to uphold’.

Harry paid little attention to this as he zipped up his jacket and followed Hermione to the tent flap. “What's a Death Eater?”

Hermione peaked out the flap, nerves clear in a way he hadn't seen her since Lupin and the Dementors. “They were followers of, of You-Know-Who in the last war.” Harry's hand went to his scarf, a lightning shaped reminder of his parents' murderer hidden behind tufts of hair. “Dark Witches and Wizards, blood supremacist who did his bidding and supported his cause.”

“Fanatics is what they are.” Mr. Weasley said half pushing Ron towards them as his three eldest stood behind him with sleeves rolled up and faces determined, “Fred, George, I need you to take Ginny and the rest to woods. Stay hidden, stay safe. We're going to see what we can do to help the Ministry. Now go!”

With that, the four eldest Weasley men were off, wands high as they raced out into the chaos. Harry didn't remember much of the run to the forest, though a particularly bad taste settled in his mouth as he was coddled while others fought was a clear memory.

And just as clearly he remembered them.

He remembered how their hooded robes shadowed their skull masks, how their wands flashed cruel shades of green as they laughed at the chaos they caused. Hate hadn't set in until he saw the family, poor victims floating in the air listlessly but very much alive. He hadn't been completely sure on that until one Death Eater, one of the hooded monsters, pointed his wand at the smallest of the four.

Her scream would haunt him.  
As would his inaction.

“Harry, come on.” Hermione tugged at his arm, Ron not two paces ahead of them, shifting on his feet as his eyes wide as he took in the scene and the growing crowd of black cloaks.

Gulping down his anger and pride he followed after his friends, racing to the treeline and safety. But, just as his feet crossed the first row of trees, he lost them.

'That's not right,’ He thought to himself, 'This isn't what happened.’

He half remembered running into Draco, a bully with his half veiled threats to Hermione. Then they ran into the lost foreign girl and the three Veela that Hermione had to drag both him and Ron away from. After that, most of all, he remembered the House Elf and how his stolen wand was used to cast the Dark Mark into the sky.

The image of a skull made of starlight looking over the field, snake of smoke slithering out its jaws like a grotesque tongue, stayed with him. Not because it scared him but the feelings it drew from others. The fear it caused was palpable and the response it earned immediate.

But none of that was happening. There was no Ron or Hermione, no Malfoy, no House Elf. There was no one.

Was he dreaming? Reliving the night before in a half impression? It didn't feel like it. It felt too real.

“Hello?” He called, still unsure, “Is anyone there? Hello?”

No one answered. He moved through the empty forest calling again and again to similar results. He heard nothing, not even the rustle of birds. As he trekked deeper the trees grew and thicked, reaching heights he wasn't sure he even saw trees so large in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts.

They seemed familiar, so familiar. He didn't know where but he had seen them before and they sent a twist in his gut.

The further he made his way into the woods the darker it became but something guided him when he thought himself lost. A light, soft and golden, glowing through the darkness. It was as warm and as inviting as the sudden gust of wind at his back was cold and demanding.

He walked towards it, shielding his eyes as the light stung at his eyes and took him into its embrace. The glare never went away but he got used it, eventually. With his eyes adjusting to the sudden light he felt them widen.

Harry was standing in a field of blue flowers. It spread as far as the eye could see, sunlight fresh from a new dawn pouring down onto the flowers he didn’t recognize.

With three years of Herbology classes and a childhood filled with gardening under his belt Harry liked to think he had a head for flowers, able to tell most breeds with a quick look, but he couldn’t place it. They looked a little like Lavenders but their color a vivid blue and petaled heavily where blossom met the stem.

He bent down and brushed his fingers against the petals, noticing the black fingerless glove for the first time. He noticed his whole outfit for the first time, an all black selection that would have looked casual if not the fancy skull themed buttons and embroidering.

Harry had never once in his life worn something so strange and yet they felt right. Well worn and broken in, comfortable.

Someone called out a name that wasn’t his. He shot up instantly as if it was. A name coming from his lips that he couldn’t hear as he stood, the word struggling to escape a suddenly dry throat as he took sight of her.

She was beautiful.

Blonde with clear blue eyes and pale skin that seemed to glow in contrast to her lily white dress. She said his not-name again, one hand covering her lips while the other clutched itself over her heart.

He ran to her. She met him halfway, petals spraying in their wake as the reached out for each other. Their fingers just grazed each other before something pulled them away, keeping them away from each other.

“Soon, Dear Chosen. Soon.” A voice whispered over a suddenly icy gust of wind, “Born on a new star your rewards will soon be received. You are so close. The connection made as eyes met, yet words had gone unspoken. Soon.”

Harry ignored the voice, clawing at the air that kept him away. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, be separated from her again. Not after all that had happened, all that he had done and sacrificed, all that had stood in their way.

The last thing he saw before darkness dragged him away was on her, reaching out her hand to him in. Mouthing a word he knew intimately but couldn’t hear.

He screamed until he woke.

 

AN:  
A bit of a rehash in the beginning, though more from my memory then spot by spot from book/movies, but I needed a spot to start and I think it helps the story's tone.

Anyway, the plot is pretty simple. Harry is Noctis from Final Fantasy 15 reborn, a gift and reward not for him but for Lunafreya his betrothed in the game. The Goddess from the game, not only being close to Lunafreya but a believer in love, decided to give them a second chance at love. Taking their souls from post game and planting them in a new land.

The memories of the past life will be slow until the condition is met for a full memory revival but I have a few idea/plots for how that changes canon near immediately and should make for an interesting/non-rehash 4th year. And it’s not just the memories or even powers that would be a part of the crossover, I have ideas! Ideas I hope to show.

Though, I’ll be honest, I’m debating keeping who Lunafreya reincarnated as a secret until the full memory revival while giving false hints on who it is. Hell, I hinted the two major possibilities already in this chapter but I’m not sure how I’ll play it. I’ll probably just roll with whatever I’m writing.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Please tell me what you think!


End file.
